


"Take your medicine"

by california_112



Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 23:05:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16820257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/california_112/pseuds/california_112
Summary: "That a cold you've got coming, Morse?"DI Thursday peered through his office door to where he could see his DC at his desk, surrounded by tissues and crumpled paper. Sneezing every few seconds made for many typewriter errors, and every error made for a crumpled piece of paper and a new form."I don't think so, sir."Thursday raised his eyebrows, disbelief plain on his face.-or-Morse gets ill right before Christmas, and Thursday isn't too impressed.ABSOLUTELY 0% SPOILERS FOR ANYTHINGThis is a prompt fill for @linguini17 on Tumblr - "Take your medicine"





	"Take your medicine"

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Linguini](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linguini/gifts).



"That a cold you've got coming, Morse?"

DI Thursday peered through his office door to where he could see his DC at his desk, surrounded by tissues and crumpled paper. Sneezing every few seconds made for many typewriter errors, and every error made for a crumpled piece of paper and a new form.

"I don't think so, sir."

Thursday raised his eyebrows, disbelief plain on his face.

"Maybe you should get it checked out, just in case." Thursday suggested mildly, glancing back at his desk.

"Get what checked out?" Morse asked, trying to sound innocent. "I'm-"

"Don't end that sentence with 'fine'." Thursday said warningly, fixing the constable with a caring glare. "I don't need a fifth man off sick, right before Christmas."

Realising that wherever he could say was nothing against the might of his superior officer, Morse gave in with a sigh, which quickly turned into a coughing fit. When he looked up after a few minutes of having his head in the crook of his arm, Thursday was standing next to him, holding out his coat and scarf.

"Come on, let's go."

"But, sir, there's-"

"-your health to be thought about." The DI nodded his head towards the door. "Let's go."

"I don't want to go to a doctor!" Morse said suddenly, his eyes wide. "I just- don't."

Thursday considered the younger man for a moment, then softened. "Just Doctor DeBryn, then." Morse sighed in relief, and took his coat grudgingly. "Alright." The drive to the hospital in the snow-covered Jag wasn't very long, but long enough for Thursday to shoot Morse several worried glances. When they arrived, it was unnecessary for them to go all the way down to the mortuary; DeBryn was just leaving, black bag in hand and coat drawn tight around him.

"Gentlemen, what brings you here?" the pathologist greeted, "I don't think I've got anyone you know down here today."

"Really, it's nothing-" Morse began, but was interrupted by a massive sneeze, which was finished off by a cough.

DeBryn and Thursday exchanged a glance, before DeBryn turned around and started back down the corridor, the two officers in tow. Stepping into an empty side room, DeBryn motioned for Morse to sit on the patient chair in the middle of the room.

"What's wrong this time, Morse?" he asked, looking carefully at the young policeman.

"He's been coughing and sneezing all day, and taken nothing for it." Thursday replied for Morse, not trusting him to list his own ailments properly.

"Any other symptoms?"

"I'm very tired," Morse admitted dejectedly, "And a little bit…out of focus. Headachy."

"Why didn't you say?" Thursday said, half angry-half caring. "I'd never have made you stay if-"

"I was fine, sir." Morse said. "I'm still fine, I can finish those reports for-"

"What's your advice, Doctor?" Thursday cut over.

"Sounds like a bad cold is all, luckily. Cold syrup, that's all you need," DeBryn handed Morse the bottle, "that and bed rest, should keep this thing away."

"I'll go home early and come in tomorrow, sir." Morse said. "I can't be taking days off, not when we're so understaffed as it is."

Sighing, Thursday resigned himself to the truth. He just couldn't keep Morse away from the job, not with his overactive sense of duty; and if it was just a cold, all would soon be well.

"Thanks for your time, Doctor." Thursday said, and DeBryn made off home, eager to get to his warm car.

As the DI followed the Doctor from the room, he failed to notice Morse dropping the small brown bottle of cold syrup onto the counter, right before he turned off the lights and closed the door.

"I'll drop you back." Thursday said to Morse, as they walked together across the car park.

"The station?" Morse asked, as they climbed into the Jag.

"Your early night starts now, Morse." Thursday said amiably. "Your place. I'll drop you off, then go back to the station. Might make it an early one myself."

When they arrived at the flat, Morse was fully expecting to be dropped off and then for Thursday to drive straight off, but to his surprise the DI saw him right up the stairs and into his flat.

"Anything you need?" he asked, just as Morse had taken his coat off, "Other than a cleaner."

"No thanks, sir," Morse replied, his eyelids feeling very heavy, "I think I've got everything I need."

"Medicine?"

Morse thought back to where it probably still stood, on the cold counter of the consulting room. "Yes, sir."

"Well, I'll see you at work tomorrow then." Thursday said, turning to leave. "Not too bright and early though." And with a swish of the door he was gone, leaving Morse alone.

Not being too bothered to change, Morse simply toed off his shoes, shrugged off his suit jacket and shirt, then climbed into bed in vest and trousers. Almost as soon as his head hit the pillow, he was dead to the world, rhythmic snoring filling the small flat.

* * *

Even though Thursday had arranged for DS Jakes to pick him up the next day, he was still slightly surprised when it wasn't Morse on the doorstep.

"Morning sergeant," he greeted as he shut the door behind him, sandwiches safe in his pocket.

"Morning, sir." Jakes replied.

"Any sign of Morse at the station this morning?" Thursday asked as they pulled away.

"None."

"Good." Thursday sighed. "Told him to be staying at home today. You're alright now, then?"

"Only a little bug, sir," Jakes referred to the raging fever that had kept him off work for the last week, "went away soon enough."

"Glad to hear it," Thursday returned, “you can get started on your mountain of paperwork."

They arrived at the station soon afterwards, and went for a couple of hours without incident, the in-tray piles of both officers decreasing steadily. At nine o'clock, Thursday looked up.

"Still no Morse?"

"No, sir." Jakes replied. "I can divide up his paperwork, if he's not coming in."

"He should be here." Thursday mumbled. "Said it was only a sore throat, and he'd be in this morning."

"That's how it starts, sir," Jakes said, "he's probably not even woken up yet."

"I'd better look in on him, check he's got everything." Thursday said, and so saying picked up Morse's spare key from his desk, put on his hat and coat and took out the Jag and drove to the constable's flat.

He rung Morse's buzzer and waited a minute for a reply, before realising that if Morse was laid up in bed he'd hardly be in a state to open the door. Instead, he carefully let himself into the building with the spare key, and then made his way upstairs. He tried knocking on the door, but gaining a similar silent answer he went to the key again. The sight that met his eyes when he opened the door was a shocking one. Morse's flat hadn't been tidy any time Thursday had come over, but this was on another level. The whole place was freezing from lack of heating, and drawers were pulled open, with a shirt flapping over the edge of one in the breeze from the door. The kitchen had a half-cut loaf of bread on the counter, and the records next to the player were scattered all over the floor. Well, not all of them were on the floor. Some of them were on a person.

"Morse?"

There was a faint groan from the figure stretched out on the floor, and a movement of a hand which caused another record to avalanche. Quickly, Thursday knelt next to him.

"Morse, can you hear me?" he asked, lightly slapping Morse's face.

The reply was an unintelligible groan, and a flicker of eyelids.

"What the- I'll call DeBryn." After a quick phone call and a few short words, he was back at Morse's side. "Lad, can you hear me?"

"Sir…" was the gravelly reply, but Thursday wasn't sure if that was the fall or the cold.

"What happened to you?" Thursday asked, as soon as he'd got Morse into a chair.

"I got up to get dressed, and I fell." Morse replied simply.

"You were planning on wearing your records?" Thursday said, as he placed them back on their pile. "If you were feeling this bad, you should have phoned."

"I was going fine, until I tripped." Morse indicated a small stack of books that had been toppled onto the floor.

"Well, now you're definitely not coming in today, or for the next few days either." Thursday said. "Strict bed rest, and some of that medicine from DeBryn. Where did you put it?"

"I…well, I thought…"

"He left it in the consulting room." DeBryn had appeared in the still-open door, the brown bottle in his hand. "Naughty, Morse, you not taking it is probably the reason you were taking a nap on the floor." he turned to Thursday. "How long was he out for?"

"I don't know, but he was mostly out when I got here." Thursday returned. "How long ago he fell, I'm not sure."

"I got up at quarter past." Morse said, looking at the clock. "I could only have been out for a minute at the most."

"Well, not too much harm done then." the Doctor said, after checking Morse's pupils. "It's likely you passed out more from the sudden movement than your skull hitting terra firma."

 _Thank god,_ Thursday thought. With the aid of the medicine, Morse would recover. Between them, the detective and the doctor saw the patient back to bed, and Thursday saw DeBryn out.

"How did you get here so quickly, doctor?" he asked, hand on the door, "I put the call through not two minutes before you arrived. Didn't break any speed limits, I hope."

"I didn't come here on any phone call," DeBryn replied, "I was on my way over of my own volition, to drop the medicine round with Morse and see how he was doing. Oh, the doctor whose room we borrowed yesterday found it this morning, and returned it to me, as it's mine." DeBryn said, in reply to Thursday's questioning look.

"Thank you for coming ‘round then, doctor," Thursday said, "hope you won't be needed again, not to be rude."

"I quite understand." He disappeared down the stairs, bundled up in jumper, coat, and scarf.

Thursday went back to where Morse lay in bed. "Feeling better?"

"A little."

"Well, I know what'll perk you right up."

"What?"

"Take your medicine." Thursday said. "It'll really help."

For once, Morse didn't fight back, swallowing two spoonsful of the strange-smelling treacle then chasing it with a glass of water.

"Do that for the next couple of days, and you'll be back right as rain."

"Couple of days? Sir, I-"

"Cut it, Morse. I'm not having you keel over like that at the station." Thursday considered Morse's attempted puppy-eyes. "I'll bring over some files, if you want-" Morse brightened up "-but promise not to work yourself up. We want you all well for Win's Christmas dinner."

Morse's eyes went wide, and his mouth opened in surprise.

"Sir, I couldn't possibly-"

"You will." Thursday said, getting up. "Win's expecting you, so get better."

With that, he gathered his coat around him, and put on his hat. "I'll send someone round later with some supplies, your fridge's empty." he said, putting a couple of coins in the meter and a record on the turntable. Without another word, save a small smile, he swept from the flat as Puccini poured over the paintwork, soft opening notes soothing Morse's pounding head. Before long he was fast asleep, dead to the world but on the road to recovery.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm back! this is not the big project i was hinting at, but something else that came up in the meantime. about half way through big project though!
> 
> Hey there! I'm still quite new to writing this fandom, but I think I'm getting used to it :) This is a prompt fill, I do accept these on my Tumblr (@california-112)! I've got something big planned for the future as well, hopefully coming before the end of the year. Feel free to critique my work, I need all the advice I can get :) ~Cosmo
> 
> [Crossposted on Tumblr: @carryon-writing]


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